


Be Still My Heart

by flipflop_diva



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, F/M, HP: EWE, POV Neville Longbottom, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2015-08-22
Packaged: 2018-04-14 21:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4581282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their fifth wedding anniversary, Neville plans a romantic evening for Hermione. It turns out, though, that he's not the one with the biggest secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Still My Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ideare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ideare/gifts).



> Inspired by ideare's prompts of _missing moments_ and _future fic_. I love the idea of Hermione and Neville, so I hope you enjoy this too!

Everything was perfect. Except for the fact that none of it was. 

He had gone out of his way to make it the type of evening he hoped they would both remember for years. The fire in the floo was bright and cheery and warm. The blankets on the floor beside it were large and soft and fluffy. The champagne flutes were gold and sparkling and filled to the brim. The treacle tarts he had coaxed Molly Weasley into making for them were beautiful and perfect and smelled amazing. 

Candles were floating in the air, over the table he had painstakingly set up, with the white linen and the champagne flutes and the vases filled with long-stem white roses, the ones he knew she liked best. Soft tunes played softly in the background, adding just the right touch to turn the sometimes-too formal room into a place where one would never want to leave.

And then there was his own appearance. He had put on his best suit, styled his hair and shaved as carefully as he could. All he wanted was to let her know how beautiful he thought she was, how lucky he thought he was and how much she meant to him.

It had been five years since the day he had told the whole world he would love her until death did them part, six years since she had thrown her arms around him and declared that yes, she would indeed make him the happiest man on the planet and marry him, twelve years since the war ended and he had kissed her on the front stoop of Hogwarts, a kiss borne of hope and confidence mixed with grief and regret. 

He had loved her from afar since the day he met her, at least it felt that way to him. He had been sitting alone in the Common Room of Gryffindor Tower, staring out the window, watching the other first years down below already making friends. He’d held Trevor in his hands and tried not to feel jealous.

“You should go out there with them if you want,” a voice had said behind him.

He’d turned to find her standing right there, a stack of textbooks piled high in her arms, already looking completely at ease in their brand new surroundings.

“I, errrrr, I … maybe later,” he had stammered. “They look like they have enough friends.”

Hermione had rolled her eyes, and he had flushed, but then she had smiled, a beaming smile that seemed to soar straight into his heart and never leave. “Well,” she’d said. “I think they would be stupid to not be friends with you, too.”

She had turned then, and marched over to the table in the corner, but that was all it had taken. He had been hers ever since, even if she hadn’t known it for a while.

It had been Luna who had encouraged him to make the first move, insightful, perceptive Luna. It had been the realization that they all could have died that had given him the confidence to do so. But it had been the look in her eyes when they both pulled back, him already starting to mutter a sheepish apology because he knew she was maybe with Ron, that had given him the hope that she had wanted it too.

And she had. Their first date had been a week later, their first true kiss that same night. And three months after that, when they made love for the first time, he knew he wanted to be with her forever.

He thought she had wanted the same. That was one thing he’d never questioned, never doubted. 

Until tonight. Because something was off with his wife. Something was very off.

Sure, Hermione smiled at him, and sure she uttered a “Thank you. This is quite beautiful,” when she saw what he had done, but the tone behind her words was almost bereft of all feeling. Her lips curved up, but there was no joy in her eyes. She took his hand when he offered it, but her fingers did not respond to his touch. She lifted her fork to her mouth to eat their meal, but she did not seem to taste it.

She was unreachable, distant, and he wasn’t sure why.

He went through all the possibilities in his mind. She had just been promoted at work, and he knew she was loving it. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement had been her dream position for years, and she was flourishing there, as he knew she would. 

They had just seen all their friends the weekend before, Harry and Luna and Ron and Hannah, and Hermione had mentioned to him that night after they returned home how pleased she was that everyone was happy.

Her parents were away on holiday, but the postcards they kept sending were filled with nothing but positive cheer. 

There wasn’t anything he could think of that could be causing her such concern — unless it was him, their marriage, something she didn’t want to tell him.

His stomach clenched as he looked at her, sitting next to him on the blanket, her hands in her own lap, her eyes too distant to even be seeing the fire she was staring in the direction of. She was his world, but if he wasn’t hers …

He reached out a hand to take hers. She started, her whole body jerking at the touch. Neville’s stomach clenched harder, fear making it suddenly hard to breathe.

“Tell me what’s going on,” he said, each word feeling like agony as it escaped his lips out into the night. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He wasn’t sure he could stand to hear her speak, but he couldn’t stand even more to hear her not speak.

She shook her head, looked away from him again. He watched her lips move, trying to form words but nothing coming out. He felt his palms grow sweaty — he knew she must feel that too, her hand still clenched in his — felt like he was leaving his body, like this couldn’t really be happening.

She finally turned back to him, and he felt nauseous. Her eyes were tear-filled, shame and sadness so evident on her face.

“Tell me,” he managed to croak out.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a soft gush of air, but the words stabbing him like a dagger.

He gripped tighter to her hand, his mind whirling. “You’re … sorry?”

She nodded, a tear breaking free of her eyelashes and starting the slow trek down her face. “I know this isn’t what you wanted.”

“What. I. Wanted?” He could barely breath, felt the room spin, her voice sounding far away.

Another nod. Another tear. 

“We’d promised we’d not do it yet.”

“Not do it yet?” 

One more nod. She was pale, trembling. Avoiding his eyes. Neville felt his heart break.

“I’m pregnant,” she whispered.

The world stopped. The whole world. No one breathed, no one moved. No clocks ticked, no magic happened. It all stopped.

For a second.

And then it restarted again. His heart came together. His breath came back. His stomach unclenched.

She was staring at him, miserable, but nothing could keep the grin off his face.

“You’re _pregnant_?!?!?!”

She frowned at him, tried to pull her hand away from his. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

“I’m not.”

Her frowned deepened. “You’re not? But we said …”

He shook his head, his smile growing, his heart lifting. “I don’t care what we said,” he told her. “We’re having a baby! You and me. We’re having a _baby_!”

Finally, she seemed to get it, seemed to understand he wasn’t faking this. She smiled — and the rest was gone. The distance, the trembling, the fear. She was back, right there in front of him, the woman he loved.

“We’re having a baby,” she said, and this time she sounded awed.

He pulled her into his arms, his mouth crushing against hers. A baby. There was going to be a baby. Him, her and baby.

He snogged her harder, and held on for the ride.


End file.
